


The Other Side Of Insanity

by whatthefrickfrackpaddywack



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Angst and Humor, BAMF Leia Organa, Blood and Gore, Eventual Smut, General Leia Organa - Freeform, Jedi Ben Solo, Kylo Ren Backstory, M/M, Mild Gore, Oblivious Han, Pining Luke, Princess Kylo Ren, Psychopath Hux, Sexuality Crisis, The force is fucking evil, The smut is not the focus of the story here people calm yo selves, Young Ben Solo, Young Hux, rebel fighter ben solo, resistence fighter ben solo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-03 02:22:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6592738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthefrickfrackpaddywack/pseuds/whatthefrickfrackpaddywack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So are you gonna ask the right questions, or am I gonna have to break out the photo album and start talking about my cats?”</p><p>“I thought you told me I wasn’t going to be subjected to torture.”</p><p>“It’s not torture, you love cats. I just caught a flash of orange, deep within your mind. And fondness! I thought emotions such as compassion were beneath the First Order?”</p><p>“Fuck you.”</p><p>“At the very least, you should buy me a drink first.” Ben cleared his throat and leaned forward. “So. Ask me the right question.”</p><p>Set ten years before the events of The Force Awakens, when General Hux was nothing more than a soldier, and Ben Organa Solo was a Jedi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolouge

**Author's Note:**

> Get ready for the ride of a lifetime.

Phasma fucking told him this would happen.

Hux knew somewhere in the back of his mind that the blaring sirens of the ship should've been drowning out all noise within a fifty foot radius. It's not like the Laws of Physics were just a passing request. Yet the only thing he could hear was his pulse, thudding against the wet tissue of his brain like a jackhammer. There was blood dripping down into his eyes, rubble crashing and sparks flying as he raced down the hallway to the transport vessel.

Wait. Rephrase: He wasn’t exactly racing, more like stumbling around and running into the wall on occasion.

In his defense, it was a bit hard to concentrate on any designated path when Mitaka’s unintelligible words were breathing down his neck from where he was holding him up. Mitaka was fresh off the boat, in every sense of the word. This was his first assignment, first mission, first time out of training and he’d been thrown head first into the roughe. Now he was barely holding his internal organs inside of himself while Lieutenant Hux desperately ran to the escape pod.

\-----------------------------------

_"I swear to god, if one more person mutters facrat under their breathe, I’m going to rip out their eyeballs."_

_"I don’t doubt you would, but think of all that blood getting on your perfect uniform."_

_"I earned this mission, Phasma. Snoke picked me, it’s got nothing to do with my father."_

_"Eeeeeeh...It's got a little to do with your father."_

_"It has little to do with my- Who’s side are you on here!?"_

_"I’m on the side of the blood and the gore. Top of your class in everything but the physical department tends to rub people the wrong way, kid. Don’t take it personally."_

_"Skill is far superior to brute strength-"_

_"This is war, Hux. You’re an over glorified secretary with a powerful daddy. Don’t give me any of your privileged bullshit and don’t get on that goddamn ship."_

_\--------------------------_

This was supposed to be an easy mission. Quick supplies run of a recently conquered planet, show the new recruits the ropes, act like a “good little boy” and don’t embarrass your father. That was all fine and dandy until three fucking X-wings seemingly appeared from nowhere and started raining blasters from the sky. The First Order was new. It was young and barely organized and this wasn’t a motherfucking military vessel, this was a reconnaissance mission to deliver supplies to the construction crews building the embassy and there were mother fucking _children_  on this ship jesus christ, Mitaka couldn’t be older than seventeen, a volunteer like they all were, fresh out of training and tossed into the blood and the violence and the decramenting ways of the Republic, soon to become another statistic on the bulletin board-

There was a small popping sound from the left, and suddenly he and Mitaka were thrown to the side as the vessel lurched. He could hear the sirens now, shrill and angry, and the sound of blaster fire was echoing down the halls.

They were on the ship.

\----------------------

_"You’ve got no evidence for your radical paranoia, Faz."_

_"You’re entering Republic space with no troopers to protect you. You’re a damn good strategist, babe, but even you can’t take down a resistance fighter jet single handedly. Those kids ain’t gonna help you if you get into trouble out there."_

_"Phasma, do my ears beseech me, or is that concern in your voice?"_

_"You still owe me 50 credits. Can’t have you dying on me now."_

\----------------

Oh, the irony.

 _“Shit the damn ass fuck_ , Mitaka, wake the fuck up, they’re here, we need to go-”

But Mitaka’s hot breath on his neck was gone.

The kid wasn’t breathing.

Hux hadn’t even known what his name was fifteen minutes ago, before he started ripping off pieces of his Order regulated uniform to try and staunch the flow of blood from some screaming kid’s side, talking calmly and trying to get his heart rate down. Captain Rootuk bailed the second the jets appeared, leaving a bunch of fucking teenagers trapped inside of an unarmed vessel. Mitaka, he gasped. My name is Mitaka, please, I just wanted to protect my sister, they promised me they’d protect my sister, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this-

Now the kid was fucking dead.

And Hux was fucking pissed.

His breath was coming in dry, heaving gasps that scratched at his throat and cut into his side. His arms ached and his teeth chattered against the cold that was seeping into the hull. Life support would shut down any second. And the sound of rubber boot clad stomping was getting closer with every passing breath.

“This is why I don’t do field work,” he hissed. Three jumpsuit wearing bastards rounded the corner and pointed their blasters at him.

Now, you’ve probably guessed that we’ve reached the point in our story where our protagonist runs in, guns blazing and heart aflame, to avenge an innocent death and return honor to his family. Hux, being the overdramatic little fucker that he is, planned on doing just that.

Instead he ran headfirst into a wall.

And promptly blacked out.


	2. Crash Landing on Planet Nope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've got a nice crisp bit of SkySolo onesidedness going on, as well as some force shit and a whole lot of Kylo's POV. I always thought that the relationship dynamic between the trio would've been thrown awkwardly out of order forever if Luke had actually been pining after his SISTER, how fucking weird would that be. So I decided to watch the originals with some gay goggles on and it made so much more sense and a lot less perviness if you assumed that Luke was in love with Han instead of Leia. (Because...SIBLINGS.) Anyway, enjoy the awesomeness that is this update.

_ _

 

 _It was like oil, brimming over a barely balanced glass and dripping like molasses into the contents of his brain. It was thick, and red, and so sickly sweet that Ben_ ached _for it, longed for it, reached out with the corners of his mental shields until he was gently probing its sides. The viscosity of it shocked him; Hadn’t Uncle Luke described it as more of a scentless gas than a liquid? Not that it could rightly be called a liquid, not with it’s thick, juicy oils slipping against the cracks of his mind, purring sweet nothings and beckoning...beckoning…_

“Ben.”

_His curiosity got the better of him, (as it is want to do,) and he allowed it to slip closer still, until it’s tendrils reached out in longing. Longing that was mirrored in his own quickened heartbeat and sweaty palms..._

“Ben? Can you hear me?”

_It purred in delight, dancing around him with an air of playfulness. Danger. It promised him the tantalizing, the seductive, the delicious-_

SPLAT!

Ben spluttered with indignation, shrieking in terror as a freezing wet substance engulfed him to the sounds of...

Laughter?

“WHAT THE HELL, GLADYS!?”

This exclamation appeared to only increase the hilarity that all present padawans seemed to be experiencing.

“You weren’t responding to Master Luke’s call for you.” Smchi Bloo giggled, antenna quivering in quiet delight.

“Something must have gotten lost in translation.” Luke called from his rug at the front of the class. Ben turned to face him sharply, the biting glare he’d meant to send seemingly replaced by a wet, puppy look of betrayal. Uncle Luke’s face was the picture of innocence, but he could almost taste the amusement dancing behind bright blue eyes.

“So I got the bucket to wake you from your day dream.” Gladys laughed, mischief evident against a green skinned smirk.

Ben stood abruptly, turning to face his Uncle’s students with a pointed stare that must have been quite cutting, as the children sobered almost as quickly as they’d erupted.

“Who put ice in the bucket.”

There was a tense hush amongst the students, like a tightly wrapped coil getting ready to spring. However, a barely concealed snort brought the catalyst of howling, tear jerking, slap-your-hands-together-in-silent-ecstasy laughter back into the fray.

An unseen angel of the lord praised him with a name: Joe fucking Jango. He immediately fessed up to the crime, shooting Ben his most charming smile as his blood ran hot.

Fucking Joe Jango. With his stupid perfect hair and his stupid perfect blaster aim and his stupid, perfect teeth. His teeth were straighter than a lead pipe, and so shiny you could swear your reflection was waiting for you every time he opened his obnoxiously large mouth.

“Come on, Bendy, it’s just a joke. No need to get so _emotional_ about it.”

Blood bypassed his face and went straight to his ears, comically large against a still developing frame. His limbs were all too long, angles all too sharp, hands and feet too big. The throes of puberty weren't hitting him like a truck. They weren't really hit on him at all. They’d just kinda shaken his hand one day and wondered off. The only good change came in the form of his voice, a deep baritone that had given his mother a heart attack and given Ben stitches from a frying pan to the face.

“Yeah, haha, laugh at my pain. I am a victim of assault by ice and you mock me.” More giggles. “Now if you’re done, I believe we were meditating." Attempts to calm their thoughts were made by all but Joe, who was checking his teeth in the shining steel of his saber hilt.

"Oh, don't worry about Jango," Ben called, back to the students and smirk on his face. "He's only here to look pretty and refill the water bottles.

A fresh round of giggles greeted the comment, and Ben could see Luke trying, (and failing quite spectacularly,) at keeping a straight face.

“Well, class. I believe it would be futile to attempt and regain our previous state of being, as one of us is sopping wet, and the other has been badly burned.”

Ben couldn’t prevent a lighthearted snort from escaping his mouth at the look of shock gracing Jango’s perfect face. The students gathered their rugs and bowed before their master before departing for the day. Ben stayed, (as he always did,) to walk his Uncle back to his quarters.

But Luke hadn’t moved.

“Ben, I sensed a great disturbance in the force moments before padawan Gladys oh so eloquently awakened you.”

Ben’s heart skipped a beat.

“The First Order grows stronger every day, Master. I do not doubt the force is filled with anguish at every waking moment.”

 “Don’t give me any of that ‘Master’ bullshit, pretty boy. And nobody's gonna believe for one second that you've got good grammar, so stop tryin’ to fake it with those fancy schmancy conjugations.”

Ben gave out a weak laugh, hoping Luke would buy into the faked amusement and just drop the subject.

“So what’s going on.”

He did not drop the subject.

Typical.

“It’s nothing, Luke. I was just focused. Meditation isn’t my strong suite, you should be proud.”

“I’m always proud of you.”

“Come on, you know that’s not what I-”

“Is this about what I think it’s about.”

Ben turned sharply to face his uncle, stomach fluttering in anxiety and the desperate effort to keep a straight face.

Luke wore a look of intense concentration usually reserved for cheesy quesadillas. “The force is strong in our family, Ben. Your Grandfather had it. Your Mother has is. I have it.  
And now it flows through you.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard this story before, uncle. You tell it at least twice a week.”

“That’s because you need to be reminded of the immense power you now hold.” Luke placed his good hand on Ben's shoulder. “And of the burden you must carry.”

Ben swallowed. “I'm not being tempted.”

Luke gave a reassuring squeeze and smiled, small and thin, before dropping his hand back down at his side. “We are all tempted, my dear. I am deeply sorry that you carry this with you. If it was in my power to take it from you, I would. But temptation does not make you weak. Weakness comes with cowardice, with betrayal. The Dark side can only lead to pain. True strength comes with fighting that temptation, day after day, until its call is no longer silken but black, and it cannot tempt us anymore.”

“Luke, I’m fine. Honestly. You should get back to your room, it’ll be getting cold out soon.”

“I’m old, not dead.” Luke laughed good naturedly, the crinkles around his eyes reminding Ben of the smiles he'd never witnessed, of love he’d never felt. “And stop trying to change the subject. We’re having a serious conversation here.”

“Very serious.”

“Mucho serious.”

Ben laughed and felt himself relax slightly. He had always held a special place in his heart for his uncle, unmistakably wise while remaining irrevocably immature. If you saw him without knowing his name, you’d assume he was a loud, playful man-child who was far too giggly than any man in their forties ought to be. Ben is pretty sure that if you opened up the 3rd edition to the Wookies Dictionary and tuned to the definition of “Cinnamon Roll,” Luke’s face would be right under fig.1.

The name Luke Skywalker was a legend. The man Luke Skywalker was an Uncle. And a damn good one at that.

“I’m in too good a mood to ruin it with all this Force Mumbo Jumbo, so let’s postpone our conversation till tonight, shall we?”

Ben had just opened his mouth to answer, when an ear piercing, tree splitting BOOM thundered out across the sky. Before he’d fully realized what was happening, Ben was racing after his Uncle Luke, lightsaber in hand, as he searched the sky for the cause of the noise.

When they reached the hangar deck at the front of camp, a huge crowd of practically every resistance fighter and their mom was cheering on the three fighter jets streaking across the clouds and leaving puffs of pink dust in their wake. Luke gave an almost imperceptible sigh of relief and sheathed his saber, it’s green glow disappearing back into the handle.

He smiled quietly and attempted to comb his hood hair back into place with lithe robotic fingers.

While everyone else was celebrating the happy return of their friends and family victoriously stepping out of the ships, Ben's heart sank. They were supposed to be gone for at least two more days.

Han Solo was supposed to be gone for at least two more days.

But as he jogged lightly over to the jet that held his father, attempting, (and failing,) to plaster on a smile for his mom as joy overcame her face at her husband's safe return, all he felt was anguish.

And it wasn’t his own.

The door to the X-wing's door jerked open to reveal a slightly weathered and wiry haired man with the cockiest shit-eating-grin this side of the star system had ever seen.

“Did you miss me?” Han tossed his helmet at a jumpsuit to his left and walked straight towards the baby faced woman with two buns in her hair. She scoffed and tried to retort, but before she got the chance, she was being manhandled into a sweeping kiss as the crowd cheered in delight.

Ben felt that curling jealousy in his chest again, felt the biting “ _mine_ ,” felt the anguish that was all quickly dampened down and replaced by an excited smile as Luke made his way over to the happy couple, laughing and poking at his friend the fighter pilot.

He was gonna be sick.

As force perceptive as Anakin had been, as quietly powerful as Luke always was, Ben Organa Solo took not only the icing, but the whole fucking cake plus a muffin and a mint. Luke knew this, had known it since the child was four years old and his tantrums turned deadly with his inability to control his powers. And after eighteen years of strenuous practice in control, Ben still had not mastered the ability he alone possessed in a way no Jedi had ever seen.

Reading what was in someone's head.

He could see into the thoughts of every passing individual without trying or even wanting to. With little effort he could break into the corners of your brain and see the Truth. The truth behind your very being, the memories you’d buried under aches and sticks and stones. It was maddening, trying to dampen the voices invading his mind that did not belong to him, attempting to differentiate between his emotions and those of a stranger. It was a curse he had kept hidden since childhood, once he realized it wasn’t “normal,” even for a Jedi like himself. Not even Luke knew, at least not to the full extent that Ben let on.

So it came as no surprise that a man who felt so passionately about everything would feel so strongly when it came to an emotion as uninhibited and strongly forbidden as Love.  
\-----------------------------

_“But why can‘t the Jedi get married? Mama got married.”_

_“Sweetie, your mama’s not a Jedi. She never chose that path.”_

_“But you told me she was force sensitive, like us!”_

_“She feels the force around her, but does not avidly attempt to answer it’s call. If she force whips your father with a wet towel on occasion, I’m not getting in her way. Stop laughing, Ben. This is a serious matter of the utmost importance.”_

_“But why can’t_ you _get married?”_

_“Because it is not the path I chose.”_

_“Mama loves Papa.”_

_“Yes she does. Very much.”_

_“Not as much as you.”_

_“Hmm? What was that, hon?”_

_“She doesn’t love him nearly as much as you do.”_  
\---------------------------------

“Where’s my boy?” Han called out, searching the top of the crowd for the too tall head that was most definitely going to be there for his return. Ben ducked, scaring a passing Deflorian whose trunk tweeted in indignation, something about “scandalous activities” and “kids these days.” He didn’t want to see his father right now. Luke was supposed to be free of torment for the next three days, and now Ben was going to have to feel his pining and sadness and it hurt too much to see a man he cared about so deeply hide the things he felt. Not to mention the oblivious emotions his father was going to be spewing. The only reason he could shield as well as he could was because he’d walked by his dad one morning and caught images floating off of him that no teenager should have to see about their mother. The nightmares haunt him to this day.

Hiding amongst the crowd was simple, really. Though he'd not left base camp in the eleven months of their stay, he was  _still_ a Jedi, and had thus learned the art of hiding in plain sight. Leia never let him go on missions with the other fighters, or fly with Luke, or go into any situation that might have been the teeniest bit dangerous. Never mind the fact that Ben had graduated from his training three years earlier, or that he was steadily on track to becoming a Jedi master. "We can't risk losing you" sounded like such a thoughtful excuse. Bullshit.  More like, "We can't risk the succession of the crown."

And then he felt it.

The force was calling out softly in distress, a high pitched wining that flew in and out of his consciousness. Confused and very concerned, he followed the source of the anguish he was feeling. He felt fear, acidly green and vaguely metallic. There was an urgency to it that was desperately calling out for help, someone, fucking anyone, oh my god _I'm gonna die here I'm gonna fucking die where's Phasma I need Phasma escapepainescapebloodpainpaintheressomuchblood_ -Ben started running. It was crying now, softly but surely, and as he reached out with comfort it recoiled. Anger replaced the fear. Red hot and dangerously sharp. He finally located the source as the last jet to touch down, and for a heartstopping second he thought it was Bubbles. But when Ben wrenched the door open, he was greeted not with Buckingham's cherubic chubby face, but with _a mother fucking ferret_  charging straight at him, a terrible shrieking noise escaping it’s open mouth.

Ben is proud to say he didn’t scream as Thomson did, (the woman had no shame,) but his heart sped up so fast he could feel it hammering away at his throat. He ducked, but his fist reflexively jutted and accidentally punched the thing.

He was repaid in kind by a roundhouse kick to the center of his chest. Ben felt the air seep out of him with a whoosh. He realized with mild embarrassment that the thing attacking him was not, in fact, an orange ferret, (in his defensive, the murder in it’s eyes could’ve thrown anyone for a loop,) but rather a short, freckled ginger with blood dripping into a feral snarl. With a surprisingly graceful movement, Ben found himself flipped onto his side with two thighs around his neck. He kicked out with his legs and desperately clawed at the ones pressing into his throat. He couldn’t breath.

“Take one step closer, and he’s dead.”

Ben stopped his struggling immediately. The voice that came out wasn’t deep, per se, yet it slipped out a certain rich quality that screamed dominance. Ben couldn’t place the accent, lilting r’s and hard a’s, which he probably would’ve been intrigued by if he wasn’t currently being held in a head lock. He looked up as far as he could to see a furious Han Solo pointing a blaster at the boy's head.

“Let. Him. Go.” He ground out between clenched teeth.

“Oh, darling, do you really want to risk it? I’ll have his windpipe crushed before you can even pull the trigger.”

There is was again, that strong voice that commanded control, not a single quiver despite the blood dripping into his eyes. But behind the cold metallic shape was the feeling of fear. Acidly green and poisonously swollen. It was the very fear Ben had reached out to comfort not five minutes before. Ben was about to try and dislodge him when a certain double bunned mother frantically ran by.

“Benny, it’s okay baby! You’re gonna be okay baby!” Leia shrieked. Alarmingly, he was holding a blaster that must've weighed as much as she did, pointing it in kind to the red headed boy who was hurting her baby.

Ben flushed as bright as the crimson adorning carrot top’s nose.

“Mom I’m fine,” he ground out, sounding gurgled and stretched, an exact opposite to the cold velvety steel of Freckles.

The embarrassment at the idea of his dad saving a mother fucking Jedi from a five foot six ginger ferret was enough to spur him back into action.

He pinched the back of his kneecap, producing a howl and the release of tension from around his neck. With a roll and a well placed elbow jab, (playing fair was for sore losers,) he managed to jumped up and flipped the other boy onto his stomach, reaching for his hands, only to realize that they were already bound.

They both breathed heavily for a moment, ginger attempting to buck him off every once in awhile, but the thighs bracing his sides wouldn’t have moved even if the sky started raining pancakes.

“Okay, who let freckles here run off?”

There was Buckingham, timidly raising the hand that wasn’t holding a rag to his ear.

_“He’s got fucking handcuffs on, Bubbles!”_

“I don’t think now is an appropriate time to discuss your kinks, Ben.”

“BUCKINGHAM.”

“He attacked us!”

“He’s five foot six, Bubbles.”

“You weren’t there! He started talking about fucking lobotomies and sticking his hands into my internal organs! It was scary as fuck!”

Ben looked down curiously at the boy he had subdued under him. “And I thought my kinks were racey.” The boy tensed in obvious discomfort. It gave Ben a cruel curl of satisfaction before he quickly stomped it down. Jedi's don't think like that. He turned back to Buckingham. “So he scared you into letting him run free through a military starbase?”

Bubbles spluttered, obviously attempting to remain composed in the presence of the nurse who’d run up to help him stench the (blood?) that was evidently coating the side of his face.

_“Is that fucking blood!?”_

“NO, IT’S KETCHUP! I FANCIED A MOTHER FUCKING SANDWICH!"

Leia had somehow aquierd what appeared to be a crossbow and was pointing it directly between the kid's eyes.

"Just answer the God Damn question."

"Yes it’s fucking blood!”

Ben turned slowly back to the now sobered face of his captive. An image was flickering along the outer edges of his mind, a flash of _maulbreakteargrossewdoesthisguyevenshowerripdisembowl-_ “Did...did you bite him?”

The tips of his ears turned red.

Ben started laughing so hard he almost cried. The boy under him huffed angrily, trying to hide his embarrassment in a scowl. “You try doing anything without the use of your hands.”

Ben quirked one eyebrow. “He speaks.”

“Ben, honey are you okay?” Leia cocked the crossbow-blaster-thing slightly tighter. Han was white as a sheet in shock.

Ben groaned. “Mom, I’m fine.”

“He was about to kill you!”

“I had it under control!”

“Your face was purple and your legs were flailing about like an octopus.”

The boy under him tried, (and failed,) to hide a snicker. Ben’s ears turned pink.

“So, does the mystery man have a name?”

“Fuck you.”

“You’ll have to buy me dinner first.” Ben hauled the kid to his feet as Leia shooed away the crowd that had gathered around them. The thought that so many people had seen him floundering like a fish was quickly pushed to the back of his mind as he shoved the kid forward. “I’m guessing you’re from the First Order?”

He stiffened, but said nothing.

“Why is he here, Bubbles.” It was a not-quite-question delivered with a chilling calm that anyone who truly knew him would recognize as dangerous. “We don’t kidnap people. We try and do the opposite, remember?”

“He knew our location, somehow he’d guessed it and hijacked a ship to try and beat us here. We didn’t want to shoot the kid, so we brought him with us. But he started talking’ crazy shit about what he’d do if he escaped, it was fucking creepy.” Bubbles blubbered out in defense.

"How the hell did you fit him in an  _X-wing?_  Those thing's are two seaters."

"He..uh..satonmylap" Thomson mumbled.

Ben stared at her incredulously.

“Than he went and fucking bit Buckingham’s ear off-” Thomson started.

“Wait, he did WHAT!?” Ben looked down at the smug grin on the ginger’s face in shock.

“We can reattach it, Sir.” One of the medics called out from where Bubbles was being hauled into the hangar bay.

Ben just stared. “Shit, kid. You’ve got balls.”

“And his balls are gonna be escorted onto deck 0 right the hell now.” Han grumbled.

“I got this, Dad.”

“You sure, kid? He had you tangled up like the twelfth page of the Kama Sutra three minutes ago.”

“Dad oh my god stop. Wait, where’d Luke go?”

“He couldn’t stop laughing, so Leia dragged him off to go unload.” Typical. He finds pleasure in Ben’s pain.

“Well, since we’ve all had our fill of ‘laugh at the plebeian,’ I’m gonna go drop freckles off in his cell.”

“When you’re done, why don’t you join the boys and I for a drink? We’re gonna be-”

“Retelling your epic victory and fantasizing about the good old days, alternating between praising the Republic and making up new propaganda for the First Order, eventually getting so drunk you’ll pass out on Luke and everyone will laugh as he carries you home. No thanks.”

“Hey, aren’t you glad your old man is home?” Han tried to play off the hurt in his voice with humor. It gave Ben a sick pleasure that he quickly stamped down, the way Jedi are trained to.

“Of course I am. But I’m kinda whipped from training, and I just got attacked by a ferret-”

“I could rip your eyes out through your neck-”

“So I'm gonna help Gladys stock the shelves and maybe meditate for a bit before calling it an early night.” He offered a smile that Luke would’ve seen through in a second, but his oblivious father bought it the way he buys all of Luke’s false laughs and friendly touches.

“Alright, kiddo. I’m gonna go catch up to your mother.” Ben turned with freckles in tow, entering the hangar before his father called out to him one last time.

“Hey, Ben!”

Ben rolled his eyes and turned to face his father with a look he hoped didn’t betray his annoyance.

“May the Force be with you.”

Ben stopped at that, and felt a warmth spread through his chest. “Thanks, dad.”

He entered the dusty elevator shaft that would take him to Level Zero.  
\-----------------

_“She doesn’t love him nearly as much as you do.”_

_“...”_

_“It’s true! You know it’s true, I can feel it.”_

_“Ben, stop it.”_

_“NO! I WON’T STOP IT! IT'S NOT FAIR!”_

_“Ben, calm down. The table’s are starting to shake.”_

_“But why does she get to be happy if you don’t!?”_

_“I am happy.”_

_“But nobody loves you!”_

_“That’s not true. You love me, don’t you?”_

_“It’s not the same thing, though.”_

_“It’s enough.”_  
\--------------------------


	3. The Remarkable Results of Saying "Fuck It"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does have some nsfw twourds the end, so be warned. Hux's POV this time!! PLeAse comment and Kudos, I reply to everything!!! (love)

 

 

“ _If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever._ ”

\- Alfred Lord Tennyson

 

 

Rebellions are expensive.

Obviously.

War in general is expensive. You can’t just jump in headfirst, guns blazing, with no plan and no preparation, and expect the opposing side to keel over in defeat. And like all things in life, war is a lot easier with money. It seems to be a universal constant that the more credits you have, the happier your world is gonna be. You need money for decent weapons that aren’t gonna backfire and explode in your face. You need money for the food that feeds the thousand plus soldiers in your militia. After the expenses of fighter jets and uniforms, transportation and weapons repairs, there isn’t exactly a lot left over for appearances.

So it didn’t come as a big surprise that Starbase 51 was an old, fat, salty piece of trash.

Hux still couldn’t fucking believe it.

“You have got to be joking.” He gaped at the rusted up cum bucket which the rebel fighter deigned to call a lift.

Mr. Messy man bun laughed, a deep rumbling bark that harshly vibrated up and down the sides of Hux’s spine. He felt it low in the pit of his stomach and tinged at the back of his chest. “Get used to it, princess.” A comically large hand pressed a button on the side of the elevator chamber with a red arrow marked 'down'.

“We’ll die.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s perfectly safe. We haven't had an accident in thirty-two days.” Hux’s eyes widened in fear, spurring another chorus of that bone-shaking bellow. A voice that deep had no business coming out of a boy so young. “I’m kidding, sweetheart. Besides getting stuck every now and then, this things never malfunctioned. If we were going to fall to our deaths, it would’ve happened by now.”

Hux grumbled something about protocol and safety procedures before the lift opened up and he was unceremoniously shoved inside. He straightened his back immediately, (Ever the good little soldier,) as ponytail slammed the metal gate behind him and grabbed grabbed Hux’s bicep with his too large hand. Hux noticed he didn’t have a blaster on him.

“Ease up, kid. You’re sprung tighter than a Jedi in a strip club. I told you, this thing has never broken down.” He angled his head slightly, till Hux felt breathe against a round, freckled ear. “At least, not yet.”

Before he got a chance to retort, ponytail was yelling “Hold on for dear life,” throwing down a lever, and sending the both of them tumbling down.

\---------------------------------

Brendal Francis Hux had been in a total of twelve life and death situations thus far in his small, insignificant life.

At three years of age, his elder brother attempted to sell him to the highest bidder during the primary school play in exchange for the latest edition of “The Princess Warrior” chronicles. The night ended quite eventfully, with him in the back seat of an old, beat up pickup-pod on his way to the transport junk yard on Jakuu. Luckily, his sister was able to intercept the pod and get him out. This also happened to be the first time he’d witnessed another person die. It might possibly explain a few things.

The second time he ding-dong-ditched a date with his own demise was at the ripe old age of eight, when he found his father’s blaster in the closet, which the old man had coincidentally forgotten to unload. It tore a hole through his foot that left a scar the size of a thimblewood berry.

Five times since then have been in battle. Three times interspersed have been assassination attempts. The recentest attack on his diplomatic vessel assessed for one of the more traumatic near death experiences he’d had over the course of his pitiful existence.

But at the ripe old age of seventeen, Hux had never feared for his life more than at the moment the rickety, rusted up lift of the Resistance base started plummeting down.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” He was tossed quite rudely into a pitch blackness, the only light appearing in spurts as they passed level by level. The sounds of the shaft groaning and shaking gave him a sense of skittishness which, mixed with the black light fiasco and the contents of his stomach trying to crawl their way out of his throat, made for the most terrifying ride of his lifetime.

“You shoulda seen me on my first trip!” Mr. messy man bun hollard, black ponytail flying up and flapping in the wind. They were falling so fast Hux wondered if the laws of gravity had said “fuck it” and gone on strike until physics gave them a raise.“I puked all over Thompson's shoes.”

They came to an abrupt halt that ended with Hux getting tossed back into the taller boy’s chest.

“Feeling dazed?”

“Sod off.”  
“It’s fine, I tend to have that effect on people.” Incredulously, the man actually winked at him. Hux felt his blood boil beneath his skin. Unfortunately, this caused red to rush to his face, which the bloody twat interpreted as EMBARRASSMENT of all things. And there was that fucking infuriating laugh again.

He was dragged along a dimly lit hall, until they got to a bolted metal door. Hux stared.

Ponytail snorted. “You saw the elevator, freckles. Automatic doors are for the rich and civilized. You won’t be finding much or either around here.” He rapped three times on the metal surface, and Hux dimly heard a muffled shout from behind the door, along with what sounded suspiciously like someone falling out of a chair.

A slot at about eye level, (forehead level for Hux, goddamn it,) opened to reveal a man who appeared to share his height problem. “Ben! What are you doing down here?”

“You’ll never believe this, Lars, but Bubbles brought back a fucking First Order cadet.”

“WHAT!?” Hux couldn’t see the man's reaction, (fucking obviously,) but he could venture a guess as to the expression based on the squeaked out, very confused exclamation. “Why did he do that? There’s a reason we don’t do that! Wait, are you the only one guarding him!?”

“Lars, he’s five foot six.”

“If I wanted to, I could surgically remove your small intestine and shove it up your rectum.”

“Your kinks are getting weirder the more I talk to you.” Ben, apparently, (He wouldn’t have guessed that. It sounded too plain for some reason,) remarked in a slightly higher voice than he’d been using in the lift. “Anyway, he needs in. Do you think you could open up cell #3 for me?”

“Of course! You're, uh, not gonna leave him here alone, are you? It’s not just gonna be me-”

“I’m guarding him.”

“Oh!” That seemed to be all the confirmation that Lars needed, since the small clasp slid shut and the jingling of keys could be heard on the other side.

Ben bounced lightly on the heels of his feet. “So, carrot top. You got a name?”

Hux said nothing.

“Nice to meet you, too." A lock of black hair had fallen free from the others, and was swinging unnoticed in his face. "How old are you? They're taking 'em young now, aren't they. You look like a kid." Hux was going to rip his nails off with a pair of old pliers. "Don't worry too much about your height. Males typically don't stop growing until they're in their twenties. You might even crack six feet one day." He'd bypass anesthetic and head straight go straight for the vivisection. Nothing to staunch the pain. "I’m Ben. And you’re right, it’s a plain ass name. I look more like a Kyle. Don’t you agree?” Before he could process what he’d just been told, Lars swung the archaic door open to reveal a musty hallway and four cells.

As the entered the damp makeshift prison, Hux cursed under his breathe. These cells were ANCIENT. He’d only seen cells made of metal bars in holofiles. He was counting on, at the very least, some kind of electrical grid. He could hack into any computer system this side of the galaxy, but rusty metal bars had only one escape route, and it was currently on a set of keys around Lars’s round belt.

Hux’s blood ran cold. There was no way out. He was going to die in the basement of a rebel military base. Who knew how many miles they were below ground? Who knew what kind of torture he’d be subjected to? Who know when he’d get to see the sun again?  
Even if he wasn’t already presumed dead, no one would know where to find him. Not that they’d risk jack shit to rescue an over glorified secretary. The only thing he had going for him was that nobody here knew who he was. They assumed he was just another soldier, which was true in a literal sense. But figuratively. If they found out who his father was, they were going to assume he knew something. Oh my god, he was going to have his limbs sawed off, and his eyes burned out, he was going to get fucking raped-

“Holy shit, what kind of fucked up propaganda are they feeding you in there!?” Ben had a look of pure surprise on his face. “Nobody is getting anywhere near you. Holy shit. Oh my god…”

Wait. What?

He hadn’t even noticed entering the cell. Yet here he was, looking at Mr. Man bun through the bars of a cage. “Turn around so that I can uncuff you.”

“But I was oh so enjoying my participation in your kink. I thought you were enjoying the view?”

“Oh golly my, I’m blushing like a thimbleberry in June. Turn your ass around.”

Hux dutifully presses his back to the cold metal, and felt a clip as the magna force cuffs slipped from his thin wrists. Lars was back at the door, so it was only the two of them. The Lieutenant and the motherfucking, ponytail wearing, cocksucking _asshat_ rebel scum Republic whore house lapdog-

“Lap dog? I daresay you’re running out of creative insults.”

“Okay, how the hell are you doing that!?”

“Doing what?” The allusion to innocence was broken by the most god awful shit eating grin this side of the star system had ever seen.

“You know what I’m thinking. How?”

“Simple. I’m reading your mind.”

The sudden feeling of freefall reminded him infinitesimally of their journey down elevator shaft.

“That wasn’t exactly an answer.”

“Well you asked the wrong question, freckles.” Oh, he was SO going to enjoy beating his skull in with one of the metal bars gracing his cage. He could already taste the copper in the air, feel the bone crunching under the deafening blows-

“Okay. I’ve been playing nice, but you have GOT to stop it with the overactive imagination. That face is making it even creepier.”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

“Nothing. It’s actually quite symmetrical-”

“Oh my, Ben. Are you flirting with a prisoner?”

“-but that poker face is making your thoughts even more unsettling. I can feel your emotions, but I can’t see them.”  
Hux smiled at that, a wickedly sharp curl of the lips over straight white teeth. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Ben tensed slightly. He looked around for a moment before coming across a stool in the far corner and dragging it into view of the cell. He sat down directly opposite Hux, gesturing to the bench behind him. Hux stayed standing, perfect posture and arms behind his back in a parade rest.

“So are you gonna ask the right questions, or am I gonna have to break out the photo album and start talking about my cats?”

“I thought you told me I wasn’t going to be subjected to torture.”

“It’s not torture, you love cats. I just caught a flash of orange, deep within your mind. And fondness! I thought emotions such as compassion were beneath the First Order?”

“Fuck you.”

“At the very least, you should buy me a drink first.” Ben cleared his throat and leaned forward. “So. Ask me the right question.”

Hux glanced down at his ruined uniform, at the crusted blood on his face and the smell of wet metallic death still fresh in his sinuses. Then he looked at the smug motherfucker across from him. His hands dropped from behind hem to rest at his sides.

“Who are you?”

“There we go! I knew you’d get to it eventually.”

“The fat guard, Lars-”

“Hey. The guy might have a little extra chub, but he’s Deflorian, you can’t blame him-”

“He feared you.”

There it was. An almost imperceptible flinch.

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“I don’t cheat like you do, darling. And I’m very well versed in fear.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed.

“I’ve noticed that, besides a very select number of people, all those who you’ve thus far come into contact with while in my presence have either feared you, despised you, or a jealous mix of both.”

"You haven't met every sing living soul on this base, Freckles."

"But I don't need to. You seem to alternate between flirtatious banter and an almost sociopathic command. Even I can't tell which one is the act and which one is the real you. And neither can anyone else on this godforsaken base."

“Pay that much attention to me, didya?”

“Anyone who took me down as easily as you did deserves careful speculation.”

“If it’s oh-so hard to beat you in a fight, how come your on the wrong side of the bars?”

Hux flushes an obnoxious red, and says quite crisply, “I was overpowered by your savage military, who outnumbered me ten to one-”

“You ran into a wall.”

 _goddammit_ _._

“I ran into a wall.”

There it was again, that spine shaking laughter. The corners of Ben’s eyes crinkled in a way that made Hux’s hands tremble slightly. He loathed it’s sound.

“I was severely injured at the time, not to mention unarmed and barely conscious.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” Ben made a motion with his forefinger and thumb to demonstrate zipping his mouth shut. Hux imagined sewing the flesh together with clinical precision.”

Ben winced. “You have seriously got to stop that, carrot top.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Oh yeah. The name’s Ben.”

“As I’ve already pointed out, that wasn’t exactly an answer.”

“My name is Ben Organa Solo.”

…

Hux sat down.

They stared at each other for a moment. Amusement danced behind Ben’s hazel eyes.

“Well...that explains a lot.”

“Yep.”

“You’re a Jedi.”

“Yep.”

“So, you can sense my thoughts through-”

“The force, pretty much.” Ben tucked a stray hair behind a comically large ear. Hux watched as it fell back down into his face. “Don’t ask me how it works. Disney is pretending the  
Midichlorians don’t exist.”

“So you carry the legacy of Lord Darth Vader.”

A shadow passes over those big brown eyes. A darkness that whispers in the holo’s of children's bedtime stories. A monster that hides beneath the bed.

“I carry the legacy of Luke Skywalker, a Jedi that this galaxy does not deserve.”

“You hold the blood, but not the name.”

“You know the name, I know the man. The two could not be more different.”

Hux’s face twitched.

Ben frowned. “What is it?”

Another twitch. Followed by what was edging dangerously close into a grin.

“What’s so funny?”

Hux no longer feared that a smile might overtake his face. He was now praying to any deity the natives of this planet might believe in that he didn’t start busting up laughing.“Princess Ben Organa.”

Heat rushed the Jedi’s face.

Hux let out a strained snort that was quickly schooled away. Emotion is weakness. And his laugh was fucking embarrassing.

“Alderaan was destroyed more than thirty years ago.”

“Fifty thousand people were off world when it happened, and since then have tripled in population and colonized Draandel’s fifth moon.”

“I’ve never been to Draandel’s fifth moon.”

“You should. It’s quite lovely this time of year.”

That made him laugh. Which positively did not make Hux’s fingers tremble.

“Do you know why I interrogate our prisoners?”

Well. Talk about changing the subject.

“Because you’re a sadist?” Hux spit out.

Ben grinned, dipping his head almost embarrassedly. A lock of black hair fell free from his stubby ponytail for the second time. He again pushed it back behind his ear. Hux stared.

In an entirely irritated way.

“Because I can read minds,” Ben whispered, as if sharing a secret. It infuriates him.

“You could be lying to me about who you are. This could all be a tactic to try and make me give up information.”

“That’s only necessary if you have information to give.”

“Prove it.” It’s out of Hux’s mouth before he can stop himself. A stupid thing to say. Stupidity inspired by this stupid, bragging boy.

Ben leaned in. Hux leaned back, but couldn't go far without trapping himself against the cells wall. He grits his teeth when a long fingered hand passes through the bars and presses against his face. His heart pounds. How can he hide his identity from–no, don’t–don’t think about it.

But it seems too late already, Ben’s arrogant smirk threatening to become a full blown, punchablely pink lipped grin.

“Rhett,” he says.

Rhett? Hux blinked in confusion.

Ben’s still smiling, “Dagma. Jeorfetta. Marie.”

“Stop it,” Hux's voice didn't quite quiver, but it got too god damn close.

“Mika, Felicity,” Ben’s eyebrow quirked, “Phasma?”

Hux feels the heat in his cheeks. “Don’t you dare fucking add her to this list.”

“I’m only reading what you’ve thought, and you’ve thought about her often.” Ben seemed a little breathless, color high in his cheeks. “Wow. I was just pulling your leg back there, but you really are a kinky ass mother fucker.”

“Is this what the Resistance wants? The details of my sex life?” He regrets saying it instantly, shouldn’t have reminded Ben of the–no, no, don’t think.

Ben shrugs, “Just proving it, Lieutenant, like you ordered,” then he chews his cheek and seems to sober, “I see something.”

Hux doesn’t react, face like stone.

“If you'd just let me in, this could all be over so much quicker, Francis.”

And that’s when he feels it.

\---------------------------------------

Red hot shame.

That’s what Ben was experiencing.

He didn’t know why he’d ventured so far into the dark part of Carrot top’s brain. There was obviously something that the kid was trying to hide, his mind was practically screaming, "DEEP DARK SECRETS, ONLY $12.99!" He had all the limitless information on this sarcastic prick at his fingertips, (literally: He couldn't read these probing thoughts without direct contact.) And Ben knew it was morally wrong. Christ, he'd spent the majority of his life trying his damnedest to get the fuck _away_ from the inner monologues of complete strangers. But something about that prickling little voice, of the honey and molasses sloshing around in his brain, whispering _this is necessary. You're not doing anything wrong. We need to know if he's a threat. We need to know if he's bugged. This is just a precaution, Ben..._

_It's only a taste..._

So he dived in, eyes closed and nosed unplugged, to the jagged edges of a frigid, glass mind. And what he found was shocking.

Hux, (If he used Francis he was gonna pee himself laughing,) was the overlooked and underestimated youngest son of a late General. But since Ben is a nosey motherfucker, he’d assumed there would be far more embarrassing childhood memories buried behind the soldiers pokerface. Murphy's law had an abnormal fondness for him, though, which is why he shouldn't have been so fucking shocked to come across a memory of wet, warm, engulfing heat...

“Rhett,” he whispered.

Sweat. Skin. Heat. His pulse was thumping out of control as he saw the dark skin seared into Hux’s brain. He felt what Hux felt, he saw what Hux saw. The sound of moaning was making his ears turn pink. The quick slap of flesh against flesh caused the air to seep out of him in a rush.

“Rhett?” Came the timid reply.

Oh, god, he could feel an ache deep inside of himself, making him squirm uncomfortably as he named one after another. He shouldn’t be seeing this. He should back out now, play it off and walk away. He was a Jedi. Jedi are monks of the ancient religion, disregarding all sins of the flesh and spending their days attempting to reach a state of peace. They didn’t moan as long green fingers curled around an aching, throbbing-Ben almost let slip a noise. But Hux was staring straight at him with dawning comprehension as he kept checking names off a list.

_“I’d bruise my knees crawling for you.”_

Jesus.

This was filthy.

Ben could feel the smile imperceptibly slipping off his face. The small man in front of it was being layed bare before his eyes, being stripped and stuffed and fucked and he was sitting there with no idea. His fingers trembled with concentration as he tried to pull back from this disgusting invasion of privacy.

Every single dark thought and forbidden passion that he’d been trying to stomp down since puberty was coming back in full force now. A dormant feeling was crawling up inside him, watching as Hux cried, fucking CRIED, as a long, hard cock rocked into him from behind, and Ben felt his ass clench in empathy.

“Phasma?”

This one was confusing.

He caught desire, firmly repressed and professionally maintained, for an older woman. There were only flashes, sparks of desire and affection, for the armour wearing warrior who seemed to be the only being in the galaxy that Hux cared about at all-

“Don’t you dare fucking add her to this list.”

He throbbed.

And there, in the corner of his mind, Ben caught a flash of something. He reached for it, coaxed it out of hiding in the shy, shadowy depths until he could see it clearly. An inky  
black mass, cold and so very lonely. Flecks of orange streaked through silently as it gently reached for him.

Hux must've said something. He was looking at him expectantly.

But Ben caught site of something in the Ink.

It was moving.

"I see something."

He reached out for it. Hux, unaware of what was going on in his own mind,was breathing faster. He flinched back at the first touch of Ben's consciousness.

“If you'd just let me in, this could all be over so much quicker, Francis.”

And then he felt it.


	4. Fanart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the extended drag period, I'm halfway done with the next chapter! School has been slowly eating my insides. (blergh.) So until I get around to finishing the next chapter, here's a little something to take your minds off the cliffhanger! (sorry not sorry muahaha)  
> COMMENT AND KUDOS I WILL LOVE U FOREVER!!!!  
> (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Ben and Francis are silently judging u.


	5. Falling in Reverse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I thought we'd dive head first into the SkySolo angst. Don't worry, I made up for it with some Kylux fluff, LOT'S of mentions of SkySolo, a not-very-kind Leia hardened from a year at the front lines, and ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER!!! Which...will not be resolved until the end of the fic. Plez don't kill me. COMMENT AND KUDOS!!! (✿◠‿◠)  
> (srsly comments bring me life)

 

 _"It’s only falling in love_  
_Because you hit the ground"_  
_-_ Queens of the Stone Age

 

Luke wasn’t a fucking idiot.

He seemed to be the only one to realize this, though, as the rest of the goddamn galaxy seemed to think he wouldn’t notice if a certain dipshit emo _ass hat_ was _two fucking hours_ late to class.

This had been going on for three weeks.

Ben Solo was a good student. He was clumsy and easily distracted, but extremely dedicated and desperate to learn all there was to learn about being a Jedi. He wanted to know _everything,_ and every day brought newfound curiosity and excitement to the gangly teen. Luke adored his nephew, always had, and was just as excited to teach as Ben was to listen. As Luke was the last Jedi master in the galaxy, he’d begun teaching as soon as Leia and the rest of the Newfound Republic had rebuilt the star-systems enough that Luke was no longer needed. Defeating Vader did not end the war. There was still an entire Empire to overthrow, drastically weakened and now without the leadership of their best general and their strongest weapon, but still brutal and deadly. Luke had seen war. He’d seen death. He’d seen all manner of destruction and despair. But he was a Jedi. And he’d been the last of his kind for too damn long.

His first students were young and full of hope for the future. Growing up in times of war didn’t harden children the same as adults. They could see the future, radiant and beautiful. It was hard to track them down. There weren’t many. Order 66 did not only affect the Jedi, but also all those who had some connection to the force. Those that had the potential to master it’s ways were hidden in fear. Those who could not conceal these gifts were slaughtered. The force that had once flowed so freely through every living creature was now being stunted and shunned, rejected the moment it touched the young susceptible minds it had once felt such joy seeking. Luke followed the few broken strands of young minds through the galaxy. He was thrown out in anger and fear more times than one. But those that trusted, those that held hope in their hearts that the war was won, allowed their brilliant children to come with Luke back to Dagobah

Master Yoda taught him still as he taught his padawans the ways of the force. Though he could not physically be there, he showed him all his knowledge of the universe, and Luke learned from the mistakes of past generations. There were many reforms, many ethical updates, and the changes that happened out of necessity for the Jedi Order. (Luke, being the only fully trained Jedi, had to take all his student under his wing as Padawans, at least until the older ones were trained and could teach themselves.)

One of the only ancient principles that stayed in concrete was Celibacy.

Obi wan had told him about his mother, Senator and Queen Amidala. How could he not, when Luke had so many questions, and Anakin wasn’t there to tell him? (He’d passed on, to be with his wife once more. Ben wouldn’t tell him how this ghost-forcey thingy worked, god dammit.) He’d learned of her strength and compassion. Ben lead him to a trader that held a holofile of all the work she’d done, all the people she’d lead. It held three photos of her: Official public garb, Senate uniform, and a simple one of just her, smiling in the holo. Leia had her hair. Luke had her dimples.

He’d learned of the unconditional love Anikin held for her, of the passion and the euphoria and the happiness. She was like the sun to him, big and bright and oh so beautiful. She was a blazing star brighter than any other in the galaxy, and he didn’t fear getting burned.

Ben told him about the night Anakin had attacked her, choked her, crushed her windpipe until she lay unconscious and heartbroken on the ground. Ben told him about the night he’d truly become Darth Vader.

_“How could he destroy something he found so beautiful?”_

_“You could ask the same of me, my boy.”_

Jedi were force sensitive. They could feel it, touch it, bend it to their will, but it came at a terrible price. For one cannot use the Light without being tempted by the Dark.

The force was not two halves, two separate entities, but one whole, living being. The Dark side of the force was constantly battling with the Light, an epic war that could tear at your mind until it drove you insane. You cannot master it. You can only tame it. And you must never lower your guard to it’s power.

And like the twisted, sick, evil sonofabitch it was, it fed off of Love.

_“I can see the way you look at him, Luke.”_

_“Oh, geez. Am I really being that obvious?”_

_“Not in the slightest. I can see it skimming the surface of your thoughts. Oh, no need to get embarrassed, dear. It was only a peak, I looked no deeper than what would have been appropriate.”_

_“You gotta teach me how to do that someday.”_

_“Perhaps after we rescue the princess. I must say, I’m surprised. I would’ve expected someone a little less...scruffy looking… to catch your attention.”_

_“Pfft, he does have that whole ‘space cowboy’ thing goin on. Do you...think he might-”_

_“I’m terribly sorry, my boy.”_

_“What? Why?”_

_“Because you must never look at him that way again.”_

Luke had only been tempted by the Dark Side three times,

The first was when  Ben died before they could escape.

The last was when his father revealed that Leia was his sister.

The only time he’d given into it’s oily, sickly sweet caress was when Jabba had Han.

And that was when he’d truly believed that Ben told the truth about the manipulations of the Dark side.

He’d wanted to kill Jabba. He’d wanted to gouge his eyeballs out and rip his internal organs with sharpened teeth. He’d wanted to maul, and rip, and _killkillkill-_

The only thing that stopped him from force choking the life out of the criminal was the terrifying thought that he might someday do the same to Han.

And then he’d learned that the Dark side had caused his father to do the exact thing to Padme that he’d always feared he might someday do to Han. That was it. Celibacy was in place for a reason. Jedi were forbidden to marry, because the last time one had defied that simple order, the greatest Darth Sith that the galaxy had ever seen was born. No more Jedi. No more Republic. Luke couldn’t allow that to happen again.

So he went as Maid of Honor to the wedding. (Chewie was Best Man. Obviously.) He smiled and laughed and didn’t touch Him. He never shared with Leia the jealousy and anger and temptation that lay at his fingertips, for it was too dangerous and far too cruel to take away his beloved sister’s happiness. And life wasn’t meaningless. He was a Jedi master, and when ‘Ol Ben and beloved Master Yoda passed on at the end of his training, he set about rebuilding the Jedi Order and restoring Hope to the galaxy. His hands never shook when Han touched his shoulder. His heart never stopped when Han held his arm. His eyes never squeezed shut in agony when the galaxy's #1 power couple discovered that yeah, PDA is fucking awesome, and Luke should totes be subject to both sides of every argument and privy to both’s secret sexual fantasies. (“Don’t be such a baby, Luke, you know you want every single little detail of Han’s massive, throbbing-” “JESUS LEIA I AM FUCKING MEDITATING-” “Meditating on the size of Han’s dick, that’s what you’re meditating on-” “THE JEDI DO NOT ENGAGE IN SUCH ACTIVITIES-” “Well the Jedi need to trade the stick up their ass for a taste of Han’s dick up thier ass-” “LEIA!”)

But then Ben Organa Solo was born.

And suddenly Luke wasn’t so lonely anymore.

While that’s all good and well, in the _current_ moment, Luke wanted to kick his nephew in the face.

Where the _fuck_ was that kid?

It started three weeks ago, during the last raid. Ben hadn’t shown up at his quarters for their nightly meditation. The next day, he’d shown up late to class, dazed and clearly preoccupied with something important, if him getting knocked out with a force thrown boulder by Joe Jango was any indication. (Luke would swear to you up and down that his teaching methods are safe. He’d also swear that that Han’s cooking was delicious. Sometimes the truth was too much to handle.)

The first few times Luke was worried. As it happened more frequently, Luke started getting annoyed.

Now he’s just pissed.

And as much as Ben tried to hide it, there was no getting around the fact that his mind had been filled to the brim with curiosity over a certain red-head.

Luke sighed, long and drawn out, before moving on to help Gladys turn her light saber on.

If Ben wasn’t here in ten minutes, Luke was going to have to do something unforgivable.

Talk to Leia.

\-----------------------------------------------

You wanna know what’s infinitely more fun than playing chess?

Cheating at chess.

“ _Ohhh_ would you look at that, my pawns found jesus and now they’re all bishops”

“So i realize it looks like i’m putting a thimbleberry on the board but actually my Rooks have been using their downtime to build another Rook, one that’s better, stronger, faster—”

“Oof, looks like you’ve got my king cornered…maybe this is a good time to mention that shortly before we started playing, my pawns and knights revolted and instituted a representative democracy. Feel free to kill the puppet ruler that was the one remaining vestige of our tyranny, you cringing servant of the crown. _Vive la revolution!_ ”

Hux snorted, hiding his smile in a scowl.. “Figures you wouldn’t be able to keep your political agendas out of this respectable game.”

“What’s respectable about using a cheese puff as a knight?”

“Do not discriminate against Georges unique appearance.”

“Why is George an orange flaky convenience food?”

“It’s a medical condition.”

The both of them broke out in a fit of giggles. It quickly morphed into gut clenching laughter, causing Hux to fall out his chair.

Ben had no idea what the fuck he was doing.

Over the last three weeks, Ben had been coming to visit Hux every single day after practice and every night before his loading shift began. It began out of necessity. Nobody else wanted to take on the extra burden of having to guard the prisoner, and Hux had bitten two people and managed to escape three times since his captivity. It always came down to Ben dragging him back to his cell before he made it to the hangar bay to steal an X-wing. Lars had taken to guarding the door from the outside so as to avoid becoming subject to Hux’s “I’m going to rip your fingernails off and vivisate your corneas” rants. Ben had been oh-so-graciously volunteered by Bubbles to take over guard duty, as he was the only one who Hux wasn’t constantly trying to attack.

But guard duty is _boring._

Ben would try and make small talk, but besides the brief witty banter they’d engaged in at the beginning of the cadet’s captivity, Freckles didn’t talk. Ben would go on and on for _hours,_ about his favorite foods, about the grueling training regimen all Fighters had to endure, (double for him, because as soon as training was over, classes with Luke and the Padawans began,) Ben had brought out the cat scrapbook that he’d promised to him that first day.

As soon as the book opened, though, Carrot top was done.

“Jesus CHRIST, Ben, do you think you could keep your mouth shut for one _goddamn second!”_

“But I’m booooooooooooored…” Ben moaned, flopping out of his chair to sulk on the floor.

“Are you shitting me.”

Ben turned his head to glare. “Well when you have to spend fifty percent of your precious, almost non-existent free time babysitting a high-and-mighty ginger kid with no concept of small talk, you gotta entertain yourself somehow!”

“If I have to listen to one more word of your stupid fucking small talk, I’ll rip your nervous system out of your back and pour salt on the open, gaping wound.”

“How romantic.” Ben sighed and settled onto his back, eyes looking at the ceiling. “Well what do you propose we do?”

“I’d rather die than interact with you rebel scum.”

“Listen, kid. You’re here whether you like it or not, and you’re not leaving any time soon, Do you think _I_ wanna be stuck down here all the time? We’re gonna have to learn to get along.

Hux was silent again.

“Oh, COME ON!” Ben yelled in a big, booming voice. Hux looked up in surprise. Ben never yelled. It was frightening.

Ponytail stood up and pointed a long, slender finger at him. “I have been sitting in this _shit_ hole for five fucking days with no one but your sorry ass for company. I get it. You hate me, I hate everything you stand for, you like blue milk, I like fizzy drinks, yada yada yada. We are polar opposites on this spectrum.” Ben breathed in and placed his hands hands together, as if praying for god to give him patience with the prickly dicked ass hat sitting in the cell. “But neither politics nor pride is gonna help us get along.”

Hux was silent for a moment.

Just as Ben began praying to the lord God Yoda for forgiveness, as he planned on force chocking this skinny ass red head into Jakkus time zone, Hux abruptly spoke up.

“How’s about a truce?”

Ben blinked.

Hux sighed theatrically. (Drama queen.) “For the time being, I will set aside my… unsavory feelings for your very existence-”

“Is that code for, ‘I’ll put down my can of Diet Racist and act like an ethical being?”

“Yes, yes, now shut up and let me finish. I’ll set aside my utter disregard for you, and you’ll stop trying to convince me to join your idiotic, destructive, cathartic-”

“Oh, do continue with your insults. It’s not like I have feelings or anything.”

“-Barbaric revolution.”

“Finished?”

“Yes. quite.”

And thus the truce began.

Within two days Ben realized Hux was actually one of five boys, loved cats, was allergic to almost everything, and had a mild obsession with Ben’s favorite Shistavanen death metal band.

After a week Ben learned that Hux wasn’t just a sarcastic asshole, but also quite artistic and passionate about the things he loved, such as alien plant species and the way that constellations looked different on every planet. He was a food snob, refusing to eat anything that hadn’t been killed yet. He was quiet, preferring to listen to Ben’s random train of thought far more than participating in idle conversation. When he had something to say, it _meant_ something. Be it intergalactic poetry or his favorite character from the “The Life of Curious Katrice,” Ben hung onto his every word like he was the most fascinating creature in the galaxy. Brendol Francis Hux was the ocean, vast and chaotic, destruction hidden under deadly calm, and Ben was desperate to drown.

So again: What the _fuck_ was he doing.

\---------------------------

Earlier today, during a particularly comfortable, (yet surprisingly rare,) silence, as Ben and Hux passed a bright red bouncy ball through the cold metal bars of his cell, it happened.

“You wouldn’t happen to have an old chess board lying about, would you?”

The game quickly strayed from quiet, civilized territory into a barbaric game of “Whoever comes up with the stupidest rules get’s the satisfaction of haven given the other a stroke from laughing too hard.”

And now, almost three hours and six bags of cheesy puffs later, Ben was losing horribly.

Ponytail let out a groan.“Okay Freckles, what the _hell_ did you do with my ultimate superior Rook!?”

“I swear, Ben, you have the attention span of an Ewok. You ate your rook.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because your rook was a thimble berry and we ran out of cheesy puffs.”

Ben barked out that deep, rumbling laugh that had Hux clenching his hands to try and make his  fingers stop shaking.

“Dude, my mom is gonna kill me if catches me stealing another bag of chips.”

“Then sneak something else. I got sick of eating those things three bags ago.”

Ben placed hand against his chest, right over where his heart should be. “After all I went through to find you sustenance that your picky little rich boy palate could manage to choke down-”

“You literally floated them out of the mess hall with the force, Solo-”

“Over freezing hill and scorching dessert I traversed to find this sustenance-”

“You didn’t even leave the room last time, you just told Lars to get you a bag-”

“After all I’ve done for you, your ungratefulness is like a saber through the heart.”

Hux snorted into his glass of blue milk.

Ben grinned and hopped up out of his seat, where the chessboard was holographically set up so as to pass between the bars. “I’ll go get something else this time. Don’t try and scare Lars into letting you out, you know how much he sweats when he get nervous.”

Hux schooled his facial expression into a scowl, but it was obvious from the joy dancing behind Ben’s expressive eyes that he could see Hux’s amusement. “I shall certainly endeavour not to.”

Ben winked and through the first door at the end of the (decently?) lit hall. (Ben had taken it upon himself to fix all the lightbulbs, since he could sense Hux’s discomfort with the dank atmosphere. Neither would ever admit that that was the reason.)

Hux let out a shaky breath.

Fuck.

This was bad.

Brendol Francis Hux had not been subject to many different types of affection.

His mother had held the same kinds of maternal instincts that every mother had, but he scared her. Not a big shock. He’d started bringing home sick squirrels and birds with broken wings when he was five. His family had assumed that he’d been nursing them back to health, and his mother bragged about how caring and sensitive her shy youngest son was. He’d even show them off on occasion, when the birds were ready to fly and the lizards could scurry away. But the ones he saved were few and far inbetween, and were only spared because of time restraints on other..more delicate experiments. His mother could easily blame the skinned squirrels in the back yard on wild animals. She could not ignore walking in on her toddler dissecting a frog whose heart was still beating. The drinking came soon after, isolating Hux farther into the restraint of his mind.

Phasma was the closest thing that Hux had to a friend. She reminded him to eat and stitched him up when the other cadets chose him as the weakest link shortly after training had begun. She was in her late twenties, and even more ruthless a killer than anyone gave her credit for. She was one of the scientists who’d developed the new generation of Storm Troopers, severely underfunded and on the run from the republic. Her laughter was harsh, and her voice was scratchy from too many cigarettes. Her arms could crush a man’s skull. Her hands refused to shake when pulling a needle through too soft skin. Hux’s fingers would shake when she smiled. Her calloused hands would run through short cropped blonde hair that Hux ached to touch. He loved her in a possessive, protective way that she felt for him in kind. And he wouldn’t risk ruining it by sleeping with her. He’d done that once. It hadn’t ended well.

Rhett had been in love with him. He was another cadet, a sore thumb in a crowd of manicured pointers. The tension had been obvious, staticky and tangible. Hux didn’t...despise him, exactly. He was tolerable. So after a particularly horrific battle on the western front, Hux had done what any sane person would do, and let Rhett fuck him up against the wall until he couldn’t smell the blood anymore.

It was good. Better than good, actually. It was brilliant. They would sneak out of the barracks constantly, stealing reassuring touches and flirtatious banter between shifts. Hux had never felt this content before. The weight was lifting off of his shoulders, slowly but surely, until he could breathe a little easier. But then Rhett had to go and fucking fall in love with him, had to take a fucking blaster for him, and even as he died Hux couldn’t utter those three stupid words back. The poor kid was only Eighteen. A volunteer. A mercenary. Hux hadn’t even known his favorite color.

And then there was this bitch.

Ben had never met someone that he simultaneously wanted to throttle and have sex with at the same time.

Wait. Rephrase: He was actually really into breath play and had participated in it with at least two people-NOT the point.

The point was that Ben Organa Solo was the stupidest, _loudest,_ most adorable motherfucking prick that Hux had ever known.

And he made his fingers shake.

Ben was an enigma. He was bright, and innocent, and filled with so much red hot rage and no way to let it out. His favorite color was orange. His favorite food was Digbi dumplings from Hoth. He could speak twelve languages and his favorite planet was Naboo. His uncle was a Wookiee named Chewbacca. One moment he was all smiles and dick jokes, the next he was a brooding mass of static energy. He switched personalities faster than Phasma could reload a gun, and she could reload fucking _fast._

Hux had never felt as strongly about anything as he felt about Ben right now.

This was stupid. And reckless. And it made his fingers shake. But Ben was like the sun, Hux’s own personal star, burning bright with passion and fueling the galaxy with his erratic, clumsy character. He was big and brilliant and oh so beautiful, having no way of knowing how deadly he could be. Hux wanted to watch him explode. He wanted to watch him shine. He was desperate to burn.

Fuck.

This was bad.

Hux had never felt guilt before. Not when his mother turned to alcohol. Not when Rhett died without having his affections returned. Not when Phasma lost her arm.

But the thought of what he was doing to Ben…

Hux pushed it down past the lump in his throat and swallowed. Ben would be back any moment now. He didn't have that much time.

And the holographic chessboard was his last chance.

Five minutes later, the door banged open to reveal a gangly ponytail wearing Jedi clumsily stumbling over to his seat opposite Hux. His arms were filled not with cheesy puffs, but with _mother fucking thimbleberry_ biscuits. Fuck yeah. Ben had the biggest grin on his face, so big and bright and stunning. It was infectious. Hux quickly schooled the affection off his face before the gangly kid noticed.

“Welcome back, asshat.”

“I GOT MOTHER FUCKING THIMBLEBERRY BISCUITS!”

Hux’s heart clenched.

“So I see. Well,  while you were off getting more snacks, those six pieces you’d captured slipped their guards, tunneled to safety and emerged right in the middle of your royal palace.”

“ahA! But my Queen has brokered a truce with your king, and breaking that treaty is an act of war! I hope you’re ready to fall head over heels.”

No. He wasn’t.

His fingers trembled to the sound of rumbling laughter.

 

\--------------------------------

 

Ben was in some deep, deep shit.

“AND THIS HAS BEEN GOING ON FOR _HOW LONG!?”_

“Mom, I swear it wasn’t intentional, I just lost track of time-”

“Lost track of time my ass, you didn’t even _show up_ today-”

“I said I was _sorry!_ And it’s not like I even _need_ these lessons anymore, I’m better than all the other students combined!”

“While I agree with you, you’ve never had any problem coming to class befo-”

“YOU STAY OUT OF THIS!” Both Leia and Ben turned to glare at Luke, huddled in a chair in the corner with a glass of thimbleberry juice held awkwardly in his metal hand.

He winced and mentally smacked himself.

He shouldn’t have gone to Leia.

“-mention your poor Uncle Luke has been worried sick about you! Although he _should_ have come to me days ago, maybe we could’ve stopped this cutting class business before it became a habit-”

“Yo, I didn’t wanna get the kid in trouble, sis-”

“THAN WHY THE HELL DID YOU TELL HER?”

“WATCH YOUR FUCKING LANGUAGE!” Leia yelled.

Ben’s hands started to shake as the argument grew more heated. His eyebrows furrowed, and Luke could see the beginnings of frustrated tears prickling the corners of his eyes, which he hastily wiped away. The table moved imperceptibly.

Shit.

Shitshitshitshitshit-

“Leia, calm down. It’s not that big of a deal-”

“NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL!?” She screeched. “It’s 0100 hours, Luke! This kind of behavior isn’t going to be tolerated in my house-”

“It’s not like I'm snorting crack, here mom! I’m watching over a prisoner!” Ben snarled between clenched teeth. Fists trembled. The crates in the far corner started to shake.

The table rose from the ground.

“Ben, calm down, kid-”

“STOP CALLING ME A KID!” He screamed. Crates and dishtowels rose from the floor and began to spin rapidly in the air. “I’m not fucking six any more, Luke! I’m as old as you were when you defeated the fucking Sith! I’m as old as mom was when she started running a goddamn _planet,_ I’m as old Anakin was-”

“Don’t you dare bring up that animal's name.” Leia warned.

Luke’s heart fell at the malice in his sister's voice. Leia was strong. Even after the destruction of Aldeeran, she'd managed to keep a clear head and lead Han and Luke to safety all those years ago. She'd had no time to mourn. Her family, her friends, the people she governed and her planet itself; all gone. And all too quickly. Luke lost a hand and a father. Leia lost everything.

“We are trying to squash a fascist uprising, Ben. I can’t be there every minute of every day to take care of you, and how do you expect me to trust you when you’re skipping class and not checking in with your father-”

“I’m not asking you to keep track of me, and I don’t need your protection! I’m the most powerful Jedi Luke has ever trained, I deserve to be fighting _with_ you, and going on assignments with Dad, but you keep me locked up on this _stupid fucking planet_ like a child-”

"If you don't want to be treated like a child than stop acting like one!"

Ben screamed in frustration. Suddenly, the table rose up and smashed against the wall, leaving it in splinters as forks were jabbed through the walls. The light bulbs began to flicker.

“I've proved my worth on countless occasions! Why don't you trust me to _help!?_ ”

“Because I don’t want my child on the front lines of the battle field! Your father and I didn’t want to to come with us in the first place, but Luke can’t listen to reason and just stay back on Endor with you-”

“Oh, COME ON! We all know he’s the only thing keeping us safe out here! He’s the best damn pilot in the _galexy,_ Mom-” (“Aw, shucks, I’m blushing.” “SHUT UP, LUKE!”) “If you’d just let me _prove_ myself-”

 _“Prove yourself?_ How am I supposed to trust you in the middle of First Order space when you can’t even keep your hands to yourself in the presence of one of their dogs?”

Ben went deathly still. “What did you say?”

His voice was soft. Controlled.

Fucking shit.

"Leia, whatever you're insinuating-"

“You think I don’t know where you are when you’re skipping lessons and coming home in the middle of the night!? Ever since that _pig_ showed up on our base, you’ve been head over heels _infatuated._ You don’t even talk to me anymore, and when you _do_ deign to open your mouth, it’s always “Hux this,” and “Hux that.” My son, prince of the Aldorian people, apprentice of _Luke fucking Skywalker_ , is fraternizing with a traitor of the state.”

Ben’s face was strained in an obvious effort to steer clear of emotion. The objects whizzing past his head were not lost on him. “The Jedi are celibate, and as such do not engage in sexual relations with any gender or lack of, nor do they feel romantic attachments.”

Leia snorted. “If I had a credit for every time Luke dropped that line, I woulda payed off Snoke last year and stopped this damn uprising before it even started.”

Luke scowled. “Leia. Drop it.”

“No, I won’t fucking drop it. You have a fucking reputation to uphold, Ben. We can’t have word getting out that the next in line for the throne is breaking his vow of celibacy with some fascist slut-”

“DON’T CALL HIM THAT!” Ben shrieked. His hands covered his ears and suddenly Leia was force pushed backwards into the wall.

She didn’t scream; The queen was far too dignified for that. But a shocked gasp left her mouth when her head connected with the concrete.

“LEIA!” Luke yelled. Without thinking, he reached out with the force to freeze his nephew.

Hot tears streaked down his too young, too innocent, too weathered face, eyes twisted with something akin to betrayal. “LET ME GO!”

“Ben, honey, get a hold of your emotions! You’re out of control!”

“DON’T FUCKING TELL ME TO GET A HOLD OF MY EMOTIONS WHEN YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WANTS TO FUCK HAN SOLO!” Leia’s head snapped to attention.

Luke’s calm demeanor shifted into such a deep, all encompassing sadness that Ben looked immediately guilty. He could never quite erase the look of pain in his sister’s eyes every time this revelation came to light.

And this certainly wasn’t the first time.

The first time, he’d been drunk. Sitting outside the steps of the grand reception hall on Draandel’s newly colonized moon, ceremonial robes half-hazardously rumpled and wet. He’d angrily screamed at his sister, the jealousy at the beaming bride standing next to the most beautiful man in the universe curling his chest until he couldn’t breathe. He sobbed afterwards, into her extravagant gown, her wet whispers os “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, oh god I’m so sorry” mixing with her own tears. He’d delved into her mind and erased the last twenty minutes from her memory. She hugged her brother goodbye as the newly wed’s hopped onto the Millennium Falcon and made for Endor, the bliss of ignorance blanketing the happy couple as Luke died inside with every passing second.

The second time, he’d been high. Drugs pumping into his system to dull the pain of having his side gashed open from an assassination attack on the newly coronated queen by an Empire sympathizer. He’d just woken up, Han’s face inches from his own. Those warm chocolate eyes widening in relief, shaky exhale replaced by soul warming laughter. He’d said something, (probably an inside joke, a gentle “glad you’re not dead, thanks for taking a blaster for my wife,”) But Luke wasn’t paying attention. He didn’t notice the rejoicing Wookie holding a shaking Leia to his chest, flowing red gown getting smeared with royal makeup. Luke was high, and sleepy, and so fucking in love that it hurt to breathe. He grabbed Han by the hand and pulled him down, the scruffy former smuggler coming without protest. But as soon as warm lips touched a questioning mouth, he jumped back. Silence. Shock. The realization dawning in everybody’s eyes. But all Luke could see was Leia, helpless betrayal and crushing guilt falling upon a makeup smeared face.

He’d been released from the hospital three days later. And one by one, he erased the memories of the revelation from the minds of the ones he held most dear. They continued on with their lives in blissful ignorance. Luke died with each passing second.

Sadly, the last time had been remarkably similar to this very instance, though Ben had been five, and it had been an innocent mistake. As Leia tucked him in, Luke watching from the doorway, he’d yawned and said, in a sweet as honey voice, “I hope I get to be like Daddy someday. He get’s twice as much wuv as everybody else.”

“What was that, honey?”

“You know, ‘cause wook wuv’s him just as much as you do.”

But this was no innocent mistake. Ben knew what he was doing. He was actively trying to cause this biting, stinging pain deep inside of him.

And Luke feared for him now more than ever before.

“Ben, this isn’t you. This is the Dark Side. If you had been in your right mind you wouldn't be using the force like this.” The spinning continued. The shaking grew louder.

His poor child looked like he was being torn apart.

 

 

“Ben, breathe.”

Luke made to place a hand on his nephew's shoulder, but found he couldn’t move. His hand lay in suspended animation, even as Leia’s eyes widened in fear. The lights grew impossibly bright, swelling, pulling them in and out of darkness. Ben’s hand was stretched out towards his Uncle. His face was blotched an ugly red, hair wild from where it had been frantically pulled out of his signature bun by angry, anxious fingers.

“This is _your_ fault!”

“Ben, let me go. It’s okay, everything's gonna be okay, just let me go hun-”

“Why did you have to drag her into this!? She doesn’t give a damn about me! She hasn’t given a damn about me since I started training with you! She doesn’t trust me!” Ben snarled. His fingers twitched, and Luke felt a light pressure on his throat.

Oh, no.

Oh, jesus.

“Let him go, Ben!” His nephew turned to look at his mother, who had a phaser raised and aiming at his head.

Ben was in agony, clutching tighter to the throat across from him and rocking back and forth as the light suddenly swelled to a brilliant intensity before bursting. “You want to kill me! She's trying to kill me!”

“She's...just t-trying...to...to protect...you…” Luke choked out.

In turmoil, the young Jedi turned to look at his master. “LIAR!”

“BEN ORGANA SOLO, PUT MY BROTHER DOWN!” Leia’s finger tightened on the trigger.

“Ben...look f-for the light...follow the light…” Ben’s eyes swam in agony. Luke reached forward until his hand touched the outstretched fist of his child.

It was almost as if a switch had been flipped.

Everything that had been spinning in the air crashed to the ground. The shaking stopped. The lights came back on.

Luke could breathe again.

He drew in a ragged gasp and clutched at his throat, almost massaging the feeling of air flowing into his lungs once more. Ben said nothing.

The Jedi quickly ran to his sister, her noises of protest ending with a single hand to her forehead as Luke mentally erased the last five minutes of her memory before knocking her out.

Ben was shaking.

Luke walked passed the wreckage until he stood within arm distance of his nephew. Wild raven hair shadowed his too young, too innocent, too tormented face.

Luke held out his arms.

Ben came crashing into him with a sob, arms circling in a crushing grip around the Jedi’s thick waist. He was almost six foot two, and still growing. There was no reason for him to look so small, no reason for him to disappear within the elder's embrace. Yet he buried his head into his uncle’s chest and shook.

Luke swept a metal hand through his messy raven hair. “She won’t remember this when she wakes up.”

Ben burrowed deeper into the Jedi robes, wiping away the snot and sticky tears that he would never admit to having spilled. His large hands gripped franticly at the soft brown material. Luke’s heart shook.

“It’s okay, honey. I know it wasn’t really you. I know you’d never intentionally hurt anything.”

Ben’s voice was muffled: “I could’ve killed you.”

“Pfft, don’t write me off just yet, kid.” Luke’s brows furrowed. “Leia was trying to distract you. She never would’ve fired that gun.”

A soft voice carried it’s way to Luke’s ears. “How do you know that?”

“Because it wasn’t loaded.” He lied.

Ben believed him. Just like always.

But before another word could be said, a booming siren stretched out over the entirety of camp. Ben jumped back and scrubbed angrily at his eyes even as he reached for his saber. A voice overpowered the siren from the loudspeaker: “CODE NINETEEN, CODE NINETEEN, CODE NINETEEN-”

Luke cursed.

The two of them looked towards Leia in a panic. But her prone body lay peacefully on the ground, floating on the sweet cloud of glorious, blissful ignorance.

Shit the damn ass fuck.

The First Order was invading camp.

And General Leia Organa was dead to the world.

\--------------------------------------

_"I see something."_

_He reached out for it. Hux, unaware of what was going on in his own mind, was breathing faster. He flinched back at the first touch of Ben's consciousness._

_“If you'd just let me in, this could all be over so much quicker, Francis.”_

_And then he felt it._


End file.
